


warmth reaches me, slowly.

by thornapple (survivalinstinctvalkyria)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, happy birthday kuro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/thornapple
Summary: Eichi's warm, almost too warm for someone like Kuro — someone who's able to delude himself that his soul is still frozen over.





	warmth reaches me, slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired like usual so I passed out several times working on this  
> It's late, but happy birthday, Kuro

Unexplainably, Kuro Kiryu's life — the life of a ruffian, a delinquent who brought a unit up to glory with merely his fists — somehow managed to become interlinked with people like Eichi Tenshouin — a person who brandished angel wings, who hoisted himself up to sit among the gods and didn't fear being pushed back down.

Well, if you follow the course of his life at Yumenosaki, it does make sense. That same Eichi Tenshouin's childhood friend wanted him to his fists, so Kuro and Eichi were comrades (of sorts) by association. But that didn't make them anything more than two people employed to the same ideal — a lanky and his boss’s boss, if you will. Easily, they could brush shoulders and not spare each other a word.

Yet Kuro still found himself watching Eichi from behind, silently, without intention or plans to act on anything he observes. That's all he wanted to do: observe. Because, starting from that Quarrel Eichi and Keito had had, Kuro had taken an odd interest him.

What kind of person becomes so desperate to prove to themself that they're still held dear by a friend that they're willing to risk destroying that friend? What kind of person can be faced with a katana and the will of someone bloodthirsty and _giggle,_ like it's the height of comedy? What kind of person would willingly try and pick fights with a Karate club member even though his body was made of glass? What kind of person could hold the fate of the world in his brittle, dried up hands and simply smile?

Eichi Tenshouin.

Who would've thought the devil's reincarnation would have the body and voice of an angel? Not Kuro, who hadn't even considered these kinds of romanticized notions before.

So, when Eichi walks into the Karate club's dojo, with his blazer in his hands instead of on his shoulders and wrapped around his torso, Kuro is a little surprised.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Eichi sings out, sounding genuine in that way that all good leaders are able to project themselves as.

“Tenshouin,” Kuro acknowledges, looking up from the fabric laid in front of him. “Yer fine, just don't do anythin’ that would ruin the mats.”

“I wouldn't,” Eichi assures him, before continuing with a brighter, more childish smile. “Keito would kill me if I did something to upset you even in the slightest, you know? Not that you wouldn't be able to get me first.”

Kuro doesn't smile, but his brows are slightly less furrowed. _“I'd_ be the one Hasumi would be murderin’ if I did somethin’ to hurt ya.”

Eichi giggles. “True.”

Kuro doesn't know why this kind of banter tickles his heart, why just a glimpse of normalcy in the extraordinary person makes him even more curious and drawn to him.

“Need me to fix that for ya? I have free time, I could do it now.”

“Ah, no.” Eichi grips the shirt tighter. “I was going to see if I could borrow a sewing kit and figure out how to do it myself. I didn't want to risk heading to the handicrafts room, you see…” he trails off, fiddling with the shirt's collar. “But if you really do have free time, and wouldn't mind it,” he starts again, voice quieter, almost hesitant, like that of a little kid. “Could you teach me? I think it'd be more enjoyable that way…”

“You think I'd be a good teacher?” Kuro asks, sarcastically.

“I don't know, you have that kind of gentle giant air around you that makes me think that you might. And it doesn't really matter, I'm a good learner, you see, so as long as I'm able to see what you're doing, I'll be able to pick it up.”

“Oh, Hasumi told me 'bout that. 'Pparently ya learned to throw knives from a video?”

“That's right,” Eichi smiles. “But you don't need to if you don't want to.”

“Nah, I can teach ya,” Kuro insists, lured in by the chance to get to know Eichi.

Eichi's grin, Kuro thinks, is genuine when he takes a seat next to Kuro.

* * *

 

Eichi was right, he is a quick learner. It look him no time at all, to grasp the basics, and fixing that shirt was hardly a hassle. By that logic, this should have been a one time thing — a chance meeting between a delinquent and a noble to pass time where there's not enough filler to breach boredom between the gaps of skirmishes.

But what's the point in things like chance meetings and fate if they're just coincidences that never cause any changes?

Maybe that's why Eichi keeps coming to the dojo, standing by the door and watching the sparring sessions, until it's time for Tetora to leave. When that time comes, he pats Tetora on the head, then moves to curl himself against Kuro's side, eagerly taking the sewing needle and thimble, waiting for Kuro to teach him new, more complex stitches.

Kuro hadn't had a thimble before, but after Eichi pricked himself, he bought one on impulse. Those kinds of things are hard to resist, especially with how much _different_ Eichi's hands are from his. Eichi's hands are dainty, and frail when Kuro holds them in his own, with a canvas of unhealthily pale skin stretched out atop, pale and soft, and eager to have blood drawn with how much Eichi pokes it.

Eichi becomes a friend, if only in those hour-long sessions every other day, and sometimes, Kuro can't help the urge to go straight to class 3-A’s and ask if he has any projects in mind, perhaps even to just ask how he is. Eventually, _Kiryu-kun_ becomes _Kuro-kun,_ and breathed out along with Eichi's flowery prose, it's easy to forget that it's still _his_ name.

Maybe it's because they weren't supposed to cross paths like this, maybe their stories were meant to break off once the thin link between them was severed with nothing more than a few steps past each other, wordless, that Eichi demands Kuro's attention.

“It'd prol'ly be quicker if ya just looked up a video in order to learn this. I suck at teachin’, I told ya,” Kuro says one day, with Eichi tucked between his thighs as they work on a particularly hard stitch.

“I couldn't be bothered to learn without you here,” Eichi responds immediately, painfully able to say _just_ the right thing in _just_ the right way that it makes me Kuro want to curl up to hide the beating of his heart, because it feels so vivid against the blonde's back.

‘Why’s that?” he asks, finger beginning to guide Eichi through the stitch another time.

“You're really interesting, Kuro-kun, and nice, too. And you're a friend of Keito's, so that's a plus. We can tease him together.”

Kuro huffs a laugh.

“And learning things like this is funner. When I was too sick to go to school, the tutors were all cold and stoic, like they had no emotions and I was just chore. You're never like that… you called me a bastard before and told me to get off my high horse before, and all… it's so different.”

He can tell Eichi is starting to ramble, because his tone gets quieter, less certain and more pensive, and his hands fall limp in Kuro's. Kuro lets him be, just listening to him speak.

“You're important to me, Kuro-kun,” Eichi concludes, in a decisive tone to boot. Kuro nods against his hair, and subconsciously pulls Eichi closer. Retaking Eichi's hand in his own, get takes them through the stitch again.

“Mm, let's get on with this, then.”

* * *

 

It's been a good birthday. Keito had drawn him a portrait, and overall, he'd just felt appreciated, something that he feels almost undeserving of considering his past.

No, he shouldn't be thinking about that — he and Keito were moving on together. It still feels like something is missing, though, and when he feels a bony hand wrap around his wrist

“Kuro-kun.”

Even if he's weak, he still able to drag Kuro off to the side, in a little corner where they're standing too close, too close, too close.

“Ahh, it's a good thing I found you,” Eichi sighs. “I was afraid we'd missed each other… it wouldn't do for you to not get your presents, you know?” His brows furrow a bit, and holy hell, why do earnest expressions look like that on him?

“It'd pro'lly be fine.” Eichi bites his lip in a pout. “But, oi, I wouldn't wanna see ya upset. C'mon, lemme see ya smile.”

A smile cracks through Eichi's pout and grins at Kuro. “Alright, alright. Shall I give you your present?”

“No reason not to.”

“Fufu, you're right.” And with that, an expensive looking bag is pushed into Kuro's hands. “First off, I went and got you some fabrics. I did my best to get you varieties that I thought you would use, but, well, I may have been off the mark a bit. I apologise.”

“Holy shit, Tenshouin…” As expected, Eichi's present (though Eichi getting him a present hadn't been expected in the first place) looks expensive beyond what he could have imagined holding in his own hands, of such high quality that it would feel more fit with Shu as opposed to Kuro. “Do ya really trust me with this?”

“Of course,” Eichi's voice is warm as he replies, “I bought it thinking about you, after all.” He fiddles with the box in his hands, before resolving to _actually give it to Kuro._ “This…” he starts. “Isn't as nice in quality, but… I think it holds more meaning. It's the thought that counts, as they say.”

Taking the box in his own hands, Kuro opens it gently, careful not to ruin the ornate packaging. Once it's opened, a red, black, and white yukata is folded neatly inside.

“You said you'd wanted your sister to wear a yukata that looks like this but were too busy to actually make it, so I got her measurements and made it for you. There might be some mistakes, but… I hope you like it.”

Just from looking at the bit at the top, Kuro's impressed. Considering Eichi's lack of experience, it's beautiful in a way, and at the very least, his choices in fabric were excellent.

But beyond that, just knowing that it was Eichi's perfectly soft hands that had made this sends something warm through him. For once, he urges himself not to think of Eichi as an idol, or Keito's boss, or the emperor, or the student council president — simply _Eichi,_ with a soul so warm it burns.

Freeing one of his hands, he brings it up to tuck some of Eichi's hair behind his ear, and kisses his cheek gently.

“Do ya think Hasumi would kill me on my birthday?”

Eichi blinks for a few seconds, before grinning.

“I think he'd wait until tomorrow.”

Kuro nods, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Eichi's lips, and Eichi's laughter so close to him sends a shiver of joyous youth down his throat, urging a laugh of his own.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, happy birthday, Kuro-kun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might take a break but idk


End file.
